


James Gordon's Existential Crisis and What Follows

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crack, Denial, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gotham 01x06, M/M, Miscommunication, One-Sided Relationship, Slight Deliberate OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hyper-distorted look at what could happen if Oswald didn't rescue Jim from being arrested for murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	James Gordon's Existential Crisis and What Follows

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I know what I'm doing, but I did something, so here it is.

James Gordon was a sad, sad man.

Three years in the military, four years in state university, six months in the academy and two transfers later, he would be lying to himself if he held any dissent from the truth. Yeah, he worked hard, he lived hard, he believed harder, but none of it did him any good. “You are but one man,” some cynical wise-crack with a hat told him the second or third day on the job. “What's a man against the entire goddamn world, Gordon? Loosen up, it's lunch time!” Should he have listened? Probably. But James was an optimist. James chose to believe in heroes, and mercy, and justice, and all that good stuff instilled within him by years of positive upbringing, based on conventional middle-class American moral.

If he wasn't the man he was, he would've put a bullet through Oswald Cobblepot's head, joined the cause of the righteous Gotham Mafioso like any other police officer with a brain and a sense of self-preservation, and saved himself a load of trouble.

Instead, he's sitting in a six-by-four jail cell five meters from the desk he worked at, awaiting a formal murder charge of the first degree.

“Don't worry, if there's anything I know about Falcone, it's that he takes care of his people,” Harvey told him from the next cell over, being the insensitive ass to Jim's existential brooding. “You killed Cobblepot, you're one of his now.”

“Good to know,” Jim said back.

He'd lost his job, probably Barbara by this point, and will his reputation and Bruce Wayne's trust in him once this gets out to the press. Three years in the military, four years in state university, six months in the academy, two transfers, his ideals... All down the toilet. What was the point?

“Loosen up, kid, it's Gotham. We'll be back on our feet in no time,” his partner continued his useless words of encouragement.

“Why don't you get some sleep?” Jim suggested, his patience wearing thin.

“Get some sleep?! You think I can?! You think I like being the go-happy Sally-sunshine of us two?! I'm about to go to prison for a murder _you_ committed! Sorry if I wanted to look on the bright side for once!” Harvey shouted.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Harvey!” Jim shouted back.

“Yeah, Harvey! It's three in the morning, you cracker-ass!” a random prisoner from across the precinct shouted.

“ _You_ shut up about my ass!” Harvey shouted.

“How about all of you shut up!” the night officer in charge shouted, having been woken up from his nap. He fired three bullets into the air to get his point across. BANG! BANG! BANG! The precinct fell silent.

Jim sighed. He puts his head between his knees, closed his eyes.

He wanted to see Barbara. He closed his eyes and dreamed. He dreamed about her. She was wearing very little, as she typically does when in the apartment. Her hair was blond and perfect. Her face was smooth and perfect. She walked towards him, limping noticeable on her right leg, like a penguin.

“There's a war coming, a terrible war,” she said in a voice that wasn't quite hers, drawing nearer and nearer. “There will be chaos, rivers of blood on the street, I know it, I can see it coming.” And she closed their distance and kissed him passionately. She tasted like blood. He pushed her away. “Don't ever come back to Gotham!” Dream-him said, and shot her in the head. He watched as she slowly fell into the river, pained, heartbroken.

He woke with a gasp, shivering and filled with regret. Blood pounded in his ears, so loud that he almost didn't hear someone calling out his name in the dark precinct.

“James.” It sounded like Barbara.

He panicked. “I didn't it mean it, I want you to come back,” he whispered to 'Barbara.' “I didn't want to shoot you, I swear! I love you, I'll never let you go again.”

'Barbara' smiled in the dark.

“I know.”

He calmed down. “You do?”

Then he squinted. He sat up. Squinted more carefully at the person outside the cell.

That... was not Barbara.

“Hello, James,” said Oswald Cobblepot, fiddling with the cell lock. The lock clicked open.

Oh no. Oh nonononono.

“I've come to save you. I was going to come earlier, but the C train caught track fire and got delayed, so I was going to go on foot, but I forgot my cane at my mom's and went back to get it, and ended up staying for dinner and dessert. By then, I was so tired that I took a nap, and didn't wake up until an hour ago,” explained Oswald Cobblepot, opening the cell door for him. He looked so happy and bashful. “I never knew you feel that way about me.”

“...Auh,” Jim managed.

“Well, you'll be happy to know that the feeling is mutual. I, too, harbor romantic desires for you I once thought were unrequited,” his unwanted rescuer declared joyfully. “This is the best day of my life!”

Jim stared hauntingly into the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://llynirr.tumblr.com/)


End file.
